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Daily Mirror
10-06-2025
- Entertainment
- Daily Mirror
What It Feels Like For a Girl is fearless TV - exactly what the BBC was made for
Released at the start of Pride month, the BBC adaptation of the bestselling book What It Feels Like For a Girl should have been a joyous moment for the LGBTQ+ community. But, perhaps unsurprisingly, given the current political climate across the world, Paris Lees' memoir coming to life on screen sparked a wave of transphobic commentary. From prominent newspaper columnists cruelly and incorrectly using male pronouns when discussing Lees' in their nasty 'reviews' to the sadly predictable tweets, this new BBC series has received far more hostile attention than it would have done had it not been centred around a transwoman's lived experience. Amid the controversy that occurs whenever trans people dare tell their stories, it's essential to not focus on 'backlash' and instead judge queer art on its substance rather than superfluous outrage. So, is What It Feels Like For A Girl any good? In short, yes - anyone refusing to watch this bold new series because of their views on gender identity is cutting their nose off to spite their face. What It Feels Like For a Girl is original, bold, witty, and sometimes uncomfortable viewing, with complicated characters that have you constantly changing your opinion of them. Set in the early 00s, allowing for a wonderful dose of Y2K nostalgia, What It Feels Like For a Girl follows 13-year-old Byron as they try to escape a life of homophobic bullying and forge a new path for themselves. Bryon's fed up with their dad - the weightlifting, womanising Gaz - and their mum, who fled to Turkey like Shirley Valentine. They've had enough of the people in Hucknall, until they meet the captivating Lady Die and The Fallen Divas and begin a rollercoaster ride of hedonism in the East Midlands. The main focus of the series is obviously Bryon's journey with their gender identity and the LGBTQ+ community, but What It Feels Like For a Girl is also packed with universal experiences that working-class people from the straight community will relate to and understand. I first read What It Feels Like For A Girl shortly after losing my nan, with whom I lived as a teenager. As a fellow 'nan kid', reading Bryon's love for their grandmother – or 'Mommar' - felt almost therapeutic and cathartic as I wrestled with my grief. A close relationship with a grandparent, of course, isn't something that's exclusively working-class, but in What It Feels Like For a Girl, Lees manages to perfectly summarise just what it feels like to grow up with perhaps a little less money than others but more love from a grandparent than the rich will ever know of. A TV series inspired by a book from a well-known public figure that has sold millions of copies across the world shouldn't be seen as such a radical act - it wasn't when Richard Osman landed a Netflix deal to adapt his twee 'cosy' crime waffle - but here we are. I'm loath to praise the BBC for commissioning this series - because it shouldn't be such a rarity to see trans authors get TV adaptations - but it is refreshing to see the public service broadcaster actually follow its Royal Charter and provide quality, diverse, and informative content to licence fee payers. What It Feels Like For A Girl will likely be a stand alone series, given the fact it's based on Lees' memoir, but hopefully 'sequels' will come in the form of new, fresh stories from other LGBTQ+ writers finding their way onto iPlayer.
The Guardian
03-06-2025
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
What It Feels Like for a Girl review – deeply disturbing and totally fearless TV
The title suggests a generic experience of nascent womanhood, but What It Feels Like for a Girl is miles from your typical female bildungsroman. This adaptation of journalist Paris Lees' excellent memoir about growing up in Hucknall, Nottinghamshire (or 'Ucknall, as the book, with its mesmeric phonetic dialect, has it) chronicles the coming-of-age of Byron, who is seen by others as a boy. Initially, our protagonist doesn't really push back on that; despite some early gender dysphoria – angrily dismissed by their macho father – the prospect of one day openly living as a woman is completely outside their frame of reference. On a visit to a nightclub, Byron (Ellis Howard) encounters future friend Lady Die, who makes a joke about someone being a transexual. 'What's a transexual?' asks Byron – smiling, mystified. This is the early 00s, you see: pre Nadia's Big Brother win, although a couple of years post Hayley Cropper's Corrie debut. Still, in terms of the general public's comprehension of trans issues, it is the dark ages. (Thanks to the current Y2K fashion renaissance, however, the aesthetics are positively aspirational: dumbphones, chokers, FCUK slogan tees, Kappa tracksuits.) Yet Byron's eventual gender transition isn't what makes this an extraordinary and at times deeply disturbing account of a partly misspent youth. The reason 15-year-old Byron is at the aforementioned club in the first place is because they are searching for their erstwhile boyfriend Max (Sweetpea's Calam Lynch). But Max isn't just Byron's first love – he's also their pimp. A chance encounter in a public toilet introduced Byron to cottaging; they then begin performing sex acts on strangers for money. Byron's success in the field – and enthusiasm for the job – means they are soon headhunted by Max to meet the demands of wealthier clients. Yet when Max is warned off by the underage Byron's usually disinterested mother, our hero finds solace in a raucous bunch of like-minded trans and queer pals, who call themselves the Fallen Divas. They live in a nocturnal Nottingham underworld of copious drugs and endless trysts; Byron has a voracious appetite for both. One love interest, the intimidating Liam, is also secretly a sex worker and has a brilliant idea: why don't the pair rob a particularly pervy patron at gunpoint? Unfortunately for them both, it's not the perfect crime Liam thinks it is. What passes as fun for Byron – servicing grotty men in grotty bogs, and risking life and limb in the process – will probably look like a living nightmare to others. But we must consider the context: beforehand, Byron's life involved being constantly attacked for being a 'bender', both by local meatheads and their seething father (Michael Socha), who seems to view Byron's effeminate ways as a threat to his own masculinity. Byron's mum (Laura Haddock) might not be so aggressively disapproving, but she is selfish and neglectful. Until Byron meets the Fallen Divas, their beloved grandmother – or 'Mommar' – is their only safe space. Despite this – and the fact they are repeatedly groomed and exploited by older men – Byron never comes across as a victim. We are not invited to pick holes in the fearlessness they display when propositioning a police officer while sporting a wig and mini dress. Once Byron starts regularly dressing in women's clothes, sex takes on a new meaning. Risky, borderline violent encounters aren't self-destructive – they're self-affirmative, an opportunity to achieve something crucial: 'pride that he actually thinks I'm a girl,' as Lady Die puts it. Byron's personality also repels any underdog narrative: clever, arrogant and almost absurdly vicious, they are a natural when it comes to drag queen-esque bravado and acerbic wit. But they are also often just plain horrible – delighting in highlighting trans pal Sasha's 'big fucking hands' – and soon friends old and new begin to sever ties. This feels like a satisfying comeuppance. It is tricky to sympathise with a protagonist so bolshie, self-obsessed and eager to bring others down. Yet Byron is easy to admire, and – via a screen, at least – good company; Howard is charismatic and convincing in the role. The series concludes on a relatively conventional note: a redemptive spell inside, a devastating death and a fresh start. It feels like a spoonful of sugar after a resolutely unsentimental tale of a chaotic, morally ambiguous period of transition. It's certainly a wild ride – I'll struggle to look at a toilet brush the same way ever again – but if you stay on board until the end, a memorably complex psychological portrait will be your reward. What It Feels Like for a Girl is on BBC iPlayer now
